by C. S. Won
Morgan stopped to stare at a collection of photographs hanging on the wall. “I like how you get straight to the point, Mr. Yeon. A man who doesn’t like to waste time is worthy of admiration.”
“I’m a man who is cautious. I assume you know what I am and what I can do, and it’s no secret how you feel about people like me, so you’ll have to pardon me if I’m just a little suspicious of your visit here.”
“How I feel about people like you?” Morgan turned to face him, looking confused.
“Don’t make me spell it out.”
“I’m not here to arrest you or speak ill of you or anything like that. Far from it. But I thought you’d be more understanding of my stance on the subject, Mr. Yeon. You yourself should know how dangerous neo-humans can be.”
Jae narrowed his eyes. “I perfectly understand, but if you think I’m going to thank you for the privilege of putting a gun to my head, then you are sorely mistaken.”
“I’m not here to hurt you. I would never do that.” Morgan finally took his seat, sitting so close to Jae that their knees almost touched. “Please don’t mistake impassioned speech for applicable intent, son. I know there are good, upstanding neo-humans out there, just like you.”
“Do you? You seem to have trouble expressing that with your public persona.”
“I have no intention of ever putting you or anyone else under fire. My one and only concern are with the bad neo-humans.”
“The bad neo-humans you say? Like your son?”
This was the first time Jae saw the mogul’s exterior show vulnerability. The slight shifting of his jaw, the smallest curl of his brow, the minute crinkling of his nose—Jae had struck a nerve. And more importantly, it confirmed that the bomber was indeed Morgan’s son.
“Quite the boy you have there,” Jae continued, pressing the issue. “You must be so proud.”
Morgan rose up from the bench and stood before the garage doors, staring outside. It was raining now, small grey circles forming on the pavement. A slight musty waft drifted into the garage. Morgan turned to look at Jae. “When did you find out?” He made no attempt to hide it, which surprised Jae.
“The GSU dormitory fires a few days ago. He was the cause. He drew me in so we could meet.”
Morgan exhaled through his nose. He suddenly looked tired. “I suspected he would try to meet with you sooner or later.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Six months ago, when you started appearing in the news because of your extraordinary fire rescues, he took a keen interest in you.”
Jae furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“Because you represented everything he always wanted to be: a hero. His admiration for you ran deep.”
“He has an odd way of interpreting what a hero is.”
“He’s a troubled young man.”
“Clearly. Is that why he asked me to join his organization? Because he admired me?”
“He asked you to join?”
Jae nodded.
Morgan sighed. “I should have assumed as much. He would want someone like you by his side.”
“Why is he attacking cities?” Jae asked.
Morgan closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that? Your own son, who carries your name and blood, is running around committing terrorist acts, and you’re just going to stand there and tell me you don’t know why? Cut the bullshit and tell me why he’s doing it.”
“I wish I had the answers but believe me when I say I don’t know.”
“If you don’t tell me, then I’ll go straight to the press and tell them he’s your son.”
A twitch of annoyance ran up the billionaire’s face, but even then, he stayed quiet, refusing to divulge what he knew, if he knew anything at all.
“Here’s what I think is happening,” Jae said. “You’re a giant in several industries—aviation, real-estate, weapons technology, energy—but chief amongst them is defense, notably the business of private military work. We all know you own a PMC called Red Mars, and business is no doubt booming when you consider the troubled world that we live in. But business can always be better, right? And what better way to bolster your trade than to exploit the rise of neo-humans? So what do you do? You have your son act as a renegade, terrorist neo-human, ordering him to blow up a few iconic buildings, kill a few thousand people, and put the fear of God back into the public, which in turn will force big businesses, private entities, and governments around the world to hire your firm to protect them and their interests from people like me. Exclusive, lucrative defense contracts conveniently falling right in your lap. Is that the gist of it?”
“Of course not. What a ridiculous claim.”
“I do believe there’s a term for that if I’m not mistaken, a term that has come up quite often now amongst the more extreme fringes among us: a false-flag operation. Are you looking to profit from people’s misery, Mr. Duffy?”
“Categorically false.”
“Then why haven’t you disclosed to the public that the bomber is your son? Why haven’t you gone to the authorities? Why keep that a secret? Where’s the transparency?”
No answer.
“I’ll tell you why; because you yourself are in on it. For the longest time ever, I always wondered why you were constantly going on the news and insinuating that some sort of military intervention was needed just to quell the rising neo-human threat, but now I finally understand why. More conflict equals more money in your pocket.”
“How dare you!” Morgan’s voice boomed throughout the garage, the loudness of it even taking Jae by surprise. Realizing his moment of fragility, Morgan shrunk back, letting loose a long, drawn out sigh. “My apologies. That was unwarranted.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, recomposing himself. “Everything my son has done, and continues to do, is of his own volition. I give no orders or mandates to him. He is acting independently of me. The murder of innocents is his sin and his sin alone. I did nothing to encourage this shameful behavior. In fact, he and I are not on speaking terms, so it would be impossible for me to give him any sort of directive. If I’m guilty of any crime, it’s my failure to rein him in before he started lashing out. That is the honest truth.”
“Not good enough. I can tell you’re still withholding information.”
Morgan’s shoulders went slack. “You drive a hard bargain, son.” A moment’s pause. “He is also rebelling against me.”
“Rebelling?”
Morgan’s lips curled into a hint of a sneer. “I was hard on him as a child. Too hard. I treated him as if he was one of my subordinates, rather than a son. I was an absolute disciplinarian, exerting my authority at will. I berated him for the pettiest of offenses and ignored his good deeds and achievements. I suffocated him underneath the weight of my thumb.”
“Why?”
“Because I was grooming him to take over for me, and I couldn’t have a soft-spoken, spineless whelp steering the future of my legacy. I needed him to be hard and ruthless and cold. He would have been eaten alive if I didn’t pound the geniality out of him. But I had set the bar too high, and as a result he had trouble winning my favor. And now, because of my poor treatment of him, he has rebelled in the worst way possible.” Morgan shook his head. “I was a fool. I wanted him to be multifaceted in every sense of the word, so that he could grow up to be a skilled, confident leader, but instead all I managed to do was push him away and make him bitter, angry, and distant.” He sighed. “The reason why I have been silent about this is because, in a way, I am responsible. I am guilty. I was militaristic in my approach with Daniel, and it backfired tremendously. Every time I watch the news and see another one of his attacks, I can’t help but wonder how things could have turned out if I just gave him a normal life, or as normal a life as I could give him. Instead, I rode him too hard, and I inadvertently created a monster.”
“I can understand a difficult upbringing making someone resentful, but to go from meek son-of-fortune to dom
estic terrorist? That’s quite the drastic change.”
“As I’ve said before, he hates me, and this is how he chooses to express it.”
“Why Atlanta? Why here?”
“The IBM Tower housed a division of my business, as did the Ellis Tower. He was trying to hurt me financially. His targets were deliberate.”
“So everything he has done so far, was just him trying to get back at you? That’s his motive?”
“It is.”
“Your son is a brat.”
“Yes,” the billionaire agreed.
“And you’re not any better. I still think you’re hiding something.”
“I’m hiding nothing. Everything that needs to be revealed has been revealed. My son is a mass murderer, and that is why I’m here.” Morgan walked over to Jae. “He needs to be stopped, and I need your help to do that.”
“My help?”
“I want to talk with him. I want to ask him for his forgiveness. I want to apologize for how I treated him, and for all the heavy expectations that I burdened him with. I want him to come back home. But I can’t simply go up to him and ask him to do so. He will never listen to me. He will turn down any and all overtures I send him. That’s why I need an ambassador, someone that he’ll be willing to talk with and listen to, and I believe you’re the right man for that job.”
“Why not just contact the authorities?”
“Consider my delicate position here, son. It would be burdensome if I went to the authorities with this.”
“Burdensome because if someone leaked this and word got out that the bomber was your son, you would be ruined?”
Morgan pressed his lips in. “I won’t lie to you; I do have a reputation to uphold. Too much is at stake for the public to be made aware of this information.”
“So it’s not about the lives lost, or the blood that’s been spilled, or a potential war knocking on our door. It’s about your reputation. That’s all you care about—probably the only thing you ever cared about.”
“Reputation is not an easy thing to simply forego, son. I hope you can understand that. In many ways, it makes us who we are. We create that reputation, then it defines us.”
Jae crossed his arms, unconvinced.
Morgan sighed. “When the time is right, I will come forward and disclose my association with Daniel. You have my word. But as of right now, my desire is to have this matter settled privately. The public does not need to be involved in this. They have no reason to be. Not yet at least.”
“The public became involved the moment your son blew himself up in a building full of people.”
“And the public will receive the justice they so deserve once I corral my son. But for now, and I beg of you, work together with me so we can bring an end to this madness.”
“Don’t you already have people that can negotiate for you? Real professionals?”
“Daniel will never listen to any of my people, but with you, he absolutely will.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Our meeting did not end amicably. He assured me that any potential meeting in the future would be much more hostile.”
“False bravado. Believe me, his admiration for you runs deep. He won’t do anything.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he is my son, and I know my son.” Morgan took Jae’s hands into his. “Please. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into the boy.”
Jae took a moment to ponder the situation. “Even if I were to agree, how do you expect me to find him? I have no idea where he is.”
“I have a team in place working to root him out. We’re hoping to pinpoint his exact location very soon.”
“Okay, so you find him, then what? I just waltz right into his bear trap of a hideout and end this with a conversation?”
“You won’t be alone. Not only will all my resources be at your disposal, but you’ll be backed up by a team of three very specialized, highly capable individuals, along with operational and logistical support.”
“Three people? That’s it? You really expect just the four of us to infiltrate Daniel’s organization of neo-humans and turn him over? We won’t make it past the front door.”
“Even if your infield team is comprised of other neo-humans?”
Jae angled his head, as if he suddenly had difficulty hearing him. “Did you just say other neo-humans? You have neo-humans working for you?”
Morgan gestured over to the three dressed in all black. “This will be your strike team. Let me introduce you.” He made his way over to them but stopped when he noticed Jae standing in place.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Jae said. “How do you go on national television and preach to your audience that neo-humans are a menace, and yet have a number of them under your employ?”
“As I’ve said before, my one and only concern are with the hostile ones. I and the rest of society welcome those who wish to join us and work cooperatively.”
“You mean when they’re subservient to you?”
“I know you question my intentions, son, and that’s okay. Someday, I will prove to you that I want nothing but harmony between our two disparate groups. Just know that I have no intention to strip you of your autonomy—or anyone else’s. I want you to live your life just like anyone else’s. But for those neo-humans who wish to cause us great harm, they must be dealt with. That is undeniable and you know it. You’ve seen what Adam Erste, and now my son, can do. A neo-human gone rogue is a danger to us all. No one is safe.” Morgan gestured back to the three people waiting patiently. “Now please, let’s greet your team.”
The big one with the scars on his arms, looking as if he had not a single care in the world, was leaning against the wall, his large hands stuffed in his pockets. The smaller male with the goatee had his back turned to them, staring out at the rain that poured outside. The white-haired woman was squatting on the ground, arms dangling over her knees, her tattoos almost squirming as she flexed her threaded muscles.
“Everyone, this is Mr. Jae Yeon,” Morgan said. They all turned to look at him, except for the smaller male. The big one picked at his teeth with a thick pinkie. Morgan held out a hand towards him. “This is Pax Logan.” Morgan gestured to the one staring outside. “Dmitri Medzin.” He nodded at the woman. “Rena Wally.”
Pax Logan walked up to Jae. Up close, Pax’s scars were like roadways on the hills of his arms, starting from the bone of his wrists and traveling all the way up to the mountain of muscle on his shoulders. An imposing beast of a man. He was probably used to people being afraid of him, because as his long shadow enveloped Jae, Pax looked down on him with something that resembled contempt and incredulity.
“This is the strong guy?” Pax looked at his employer as though he was seeking affirmation, but quickly turned back to look at Jae before Morgan could even say anything. “This shrimp doesn’t look so strong to me.”
“Don’t underestimate him, dummy,” Rena said. “If you bothered to do your homework, then you would know his strength is the real deal.”
“Shut up, runner.” Pax curled his lip as though he was about to hock a wad of spit.
Jae narrowed his eyes. “What can you do?”
“What can I do? What do you mean what can I do? I can do it all. I’m the best.”
“I meant what’s your power you Cro-Magnon shit for brains?”
“What the fuck did—”
Rena squeezed herself between the two. “Stand down, Logan. No fighting in front of the boss.”
Pax either didn’t care or wasn’t listening and pushed his partner aside with ease. “I’ll show you what I can do, you little bitch.” And in that moment, as if he was being doused with some sort of molten, liquid steel, metal began to form over his flesh, starting with his head, then his arms, then his torso, then the rest of his body, until he was nothing but a gleaming mass of smoky, grey metal. Even the scuff of hair on Pax’s head, along with his eyes, had hardened into something impenetrable. Incredibly, the metal gave his alrea
dy impressive frame added depth and dimension, making him appear even bigger than before.
Jae had to admit, he was awed.
Pax smiled, pleased with himself. He slammed a metal fist into an open palm, and a loud clanging sound reverberated from the strike. “People say you’re the strongest.” He spat at Jae’s feet. “But shit on that, that’s only because they haven’t met me yet. I’m the strongest in the world.”
Any man in Jae’s position would have cowered beneath the great shadow cast by this silver behemoth. Pax looked, sounded, and acted dangerous, his metallic skin giving him a truly frightening appearance. There was no doubt the man was strong, and the metal overlay most likely gave him a tremendous boost to his strength.
But was it enough to match Jae’s?
Pax stuck his hand out. “How about we arm wrestle? A test to see who the baddest motherfucker is?”
“That’s enough,” Morgan said. “I won’t have any of that nonsense here. Stand down.”
Pax gritted his teeth at Morgan in an open display of displeasure. It appeared as though Pax was about to object, but instead—perhaps remembering who his employer was—he capitulated, hocking another sphere of saliva to the ground as he backed away, the metal seeping away from his flesh and sinking back into his body.
“Good,” Morgan said. “Well, while we’re at it, we might as well demonstrate what the rest of the team can do. Dmitri, show Mr. Yeon your abilities with—”
Dmitri spun around, a knife suddenly in his hands. “Precise. Sharp. Beautiful.” He gently ran a finger along the sharp edge of the knife. “There’s nothing more stunning in this world than the well-polished steel blade of a knife. Just look at that mirror finishing. Absolutely gorgeous.” He raised the small blade to eye level. The angles of the knife caught the light in the garage and reflected it in a near-blinding sheen. “What else can cut, tear, stab, slice, slash, slit, and disembowel with such acute precision? An axe? A crude, barbaric weapon for brutes. A sword? Its desperation is apparent as it screams for attention. But a knife? It’s the perfect tool—the perfect companion. It’s lithe, sleek, and stealthy. It may be hard to notice at first, but once it goes in you, you know absolutely what is making you bleed.”